


Crimson tears

by Silvern



Category: Homestuck
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Blood and Gore, Davesprite is called Daven in this rip, Demonstuck, Dirk's Perspective, M/M, Minor Slurrs, Multi, POV Second Person, they aren't related, trans!Dirk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-10 12:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5585050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvern/pseuds/Silvern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk strider lost his older brother at an awfully young age, with that trauma came the knowledge of Demons, who he vows to vanquish from this city one slash at a time, but there's always a demon lurking around every corner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crimson tears

**Author's Note:**

> There is gore in this chapter, you have been warned.

Your name is Dirk Strider, and you're currently eighteen years old.

Well... You guess that you should probably start by explaining the purpose for this shouldn't you? You're a hunter, now, it's easy to come to the conclusion that you're a normal hunter, that you enjoy going out and shooting animals for sport. Well, that would be wrong, you actually don't typically condone hunting, besides fishing but that isn't the purpose of this, so that aside you'll elaborate upon your meaning. You're hunter, as previously mentioned but you don't hunt animals, you hunt Demons. Yes, demons, honest to god demons. It's hard to believe But you don't give a shit who believes you or not, so here you are, putting your story out there whether it is taken seriously or not.

November 23th, 2003

You are six years old.  
And you're so excited, soon it's going to be the day of turkeys and gravy, mashed potatoes and things to be thankful for, making turkeys out of outlines of your small hands and gluing googly eyes onto your thumb and coloring the other four fingers yellow, green, orange, and brown. Your brother keeps asking you if you are excited, and it's tiring! You've told him plenty of times that yes, you are excited for thanksgiving. It's getting annoying, but you begin to brush it off, older kids don't get mad over dumb things like that.

Damien, your older brother, tells you all the time that you act so old for your age, that you're so much smarter than the other kids, but you don't see what all the fuss is about, it's no big deal, you just remember things, or you could say, well, you remember everything, like the one time Damien asked you what coat he wore to your first day of preschool and you told him it was the Grey one with the one frayed thread on the pocket, he didn't believe you until you told him to go check. Once he had checked, he told you that you were right. (obviously.) Another time was when he gave you that one math problem, you didn't know what to do at first but you figured it out soon enough but apparently it was something from a high school algebra class.

You think you know what that means, you know it's math but you never really asked about it to clarify anything, it didn't really matter to you. You were more entertained with shows about cars, not those baby cartoon shows where they have faces and talk, but actual cars. Espically learning about them, You love learning how they work like what makes them go so fast, and how possibly one day you'll make them better. Your Bro says it's possible as long as you keep at it, and you usually say you will and you mean it.

And that is what you're doing now, watching one of the shows like you usually do, sitting criss-cross on the couch with a bowl of popcorn in your lap, it's White cheddar and it's your favourite flavour, and that is all Bro usually gets for you but since you like it so much, you don't mind.

You usually have to have a baby-sitter, since your brother tends to go out a lot and not come back until after you're sleeping, tucked in your bed. If he even comes home at all. He tends to do that a lot now and he tries to apologize, but you understand. He has to work so you're able to do the stuff that you like to do. Yeah, you sometimes get upset or angry that he isn't around but you don't say that to him, that'd just make him feel bad, and you don't want that.

Sometimes you do tell your babysitter, Calliope, but she doesn't help that much. She's sweet, with white hair, but you suspect it's a wig, but either way, you think she's cute, with her happy attitude, and knowledge of all these big words, and how she writes stories and draws really, really well. She usually just apologises when you tell her how you feel, and tries to give you a snack to make you feel better, but it never really works.

Today you have a different babysitter, Which is odd. You don't recognize him but he said his name was Caliborn, and you really don't like him at all. He looks like Calliope, but ugly, and cruel, he yells when he speaks, and to you it looks like he has a few golden teeth.

He called Calliope, as you came to call her, a 'stupid bitch' and 'cocksucking slutbag', you've heard your brother use the second word of the first insult a few times on the phone but it was never said to you directly. So, you weren't really sure how to respond, you just nodded your agreement, he seemed pleased enough with that, so he left you alone for the most part.

One thing was bugging you though, what happened to Calliope? And why didn't your brother tell you there was a change in babysitters? He would've told you because there was a bit of time in between your Bro leaving and Calliope arriving, and he would've told you to expect someone different but he didn't tell you anything before he left.

After a while though, you began to forget your confusion by watching your show, Caliborn never checked on you, unlike Calliope. She would usually peek her head in and ask how you were doing, sometimes she would offer you a snack of yogurt or even come watch with you. She wouldn't understand a whole lot of the stuff about cars, so you would explain to her what parts did what and how it worked. She still looked confused but she acted like she understood, but being impatient, you'd smile and nod, and turn back to the show.

There was nothing like that from the babysitter, Caliborn. Nothing else happened that is until you heard a door open outside, which pulled your attention away from your show. You were curious as to who it would be, since Caliborn was here, so why would Damien be home this early? But the door shut and it all went quiet once again, and you stared at the door to the main portion of the house, it was slightly open but you couldn't see out of it. The aura of the house felt uneasy, but you couldn't put your finger on why, so you went back to your show, like nothing ever even happened.

You began to get annoyed when the door to your room pushed open, you had been distracted like, a million times now. (It really was just once but still.) But the annoyance faded as you saw your brother pop his head into the room, silent as the dead, and you opened your mouth to greet him but the fingers on his lips shushed you. Instead, you just tilted your head, staring at him with a vague sense of unease, why was he acting like this? It was weird, but nonetheless you pushed yourself off of the sofa that had been situated before the television in your room for your convenience, and padded quietly to him, you socked feet on carpet creating zero noise at all. When you got to your brother he held his hands out, he wanted to carry you? Like a baby? You're not a baby, so you shake your head and cross your arms over your chest, but that doesn't go over well with your brother and he looks mad really, Angrier than you've ever seen him before and your heart plummets to your feet, and this gets you to agree, holding your arms out so he can pick you up.

But before he picks you up, he's yanked from the door with a startled, harsh cry. You jolt back, frightened from the nose and you too startle, recoiling away from the door when your brother's cry is overpowered by an inhuman snarl that sounds like a mix between the neighbour's dog when it attacks the stray cats and the sound of nails on a chalkboard and you throw your hands over your ears. Its so loud and it doesn't stop, tears well up in your eyes, but you wipe them away before they have the chance to fall, The sound of a struggle outside is just out side the room, you can hear every part of it. But it's the sound of torn fabric that makes you realize.

Lil' Cal is out there.

Lil' Cal is your best friend, and you have no idea what you would do without him, he's the one who listens to all of your problems and you love him so much, so losing him.. You don't even want to think about that. Though, maybe he can help you save your brother!

That idea alone made you brave, brave enough to step from your room with small hand braced on the wooden door. You remember distinctively what the wood felt like under your fingers, rough in some places and smooth in the others. It, oddly it comforted you as you soundlessly slipped from the room, by now the struggling had stopped and, glass was broken and strewn all over the floor.

From here you can see the futon was tipped, and the television was smashed in. And you wonder if your Xbox made it out alive, but you push that thought away for it made you feel selfish. You had a job to do now, you have to get Cal from where you had left him on the counter in the kitchen. So that is where you were headed, and as you walked through the dark room you noted that the lights were smashed and glass littered the floor by where the futon had been tipped so you make sure to avoid that because there was probably glass on the ground from the television too. The only light you had was from the kitchen, where little Cal was, where you had to go. Your heart was hammering in your chest and you were scared.

What if it was Caliborn or.. Whatever who grabbed Damien, but that idea was silly and you knew it, so you brushed it aside.

What you couldn't shake was the sound of heavy breathing and strange, wet noises from the kitchen. What was that noise anyway, did someone leave the kitchen sink running? There was no water on the floor, so maybe not? You, you want to call your brothers name to see if it was him but when you do so there was a knot in your belly and the words just wouldn't come out. All you could do is stand just outside the kitchen and listen to the noises, they kinda made you feel uncomfortable. They were gross, like when you step in mud or something wet, but you knew you had to go in.

And still to this day you wish you never saw what you was there.

You felt sick the second you laid eyes upon the mess, the tile was smeared with crimson that pooled in the grout between each ceramic tile, like geometric rivers crossing over one and other filling in the normally black lines with scarlet that stood out against the white tiles. Filling the air with a coppery tang that made you feel sick to your stomach. None of this compared to the two, shining ruby eyes that were set upon you. Glazed over and unblinking. Your brother. He was on his back with his head tipped back, giving you a perfect view of his dual, dead eyes, blood shiny over his lips and face, some even in his hair clumping it together in red, matted mess of bangs. His stomach was torn open, and with your height you could see into the cavity that was dug out, entrails strewn about the half of the kitchen amongst bloody hand prints and claw marks that engraved into the tile. Creating indents for the blood to fill in. The bloody shiny, fresh and probably warm by your guess coated everything. His shirt was shredded, the tatters coated in a similar ruby red to the floor. You wanted to vomit, you wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, But you just stood there, staring with tears blurring your vision and burning your eyelids. Through the blur of your tears, you noticed something, prompting you to blink away the water to read what..Damien, your brother, had written using his own blood as ink.

"Hide."

And you did. You ran, sprinting from the kitchen and to the front door which was open wide. Once out the door, you had no idea what to do. Wanting to make a run for it but you knew if you ran there was no way you could out run an adult, so you turned around, stupid like the child you are, and into your room. In your delirium you wanted to yank the door shut with a slam, but you knew better. So with arms shivering like leaves you gently pull the door shut without a sound, and locked it. And for a few moments you stood there shaking, holding your breath..

Until you heard something shuffling outside and you as quietly as you could, you booked it to your closet. (Which probably wasn't that quiet at all.) It was on the far side of the room, and it was easily big enough for you to fit in there, so you climb in, it was neat and tidy just how you liked it so you had to move some stuff aside to fit. When you did, you sat up against the back wall, piling stuff atop of yourself for possible camouflage before you pulled it shut and you were left to darkness, light from the window shining into the room to allow you to partially see through the cracks, your show about cars still blared on the TV, but you were too afraid to watch. Your blood roaring in your ears and your chest heaving with panicked, panting breaths.

Your heart was thumping against your chest and you wanted to throw up because.. Your brother was (And will forever be.) dead, and you're alone with the monster that's left behind.

There was no way of telling of how long you were in there, but if it helps the show of cars being made was almost over when shit really went down. You were silently crying and praying to any divine entity that existed out there to give your brother back. Please. Give him back. You want your white cheddar popcorn and the ruffles of your hair that you used to be annoyed at because they messed up your hair, you want him to ask you at least one more time. "Are you excited for Thanksgiving, kiddo?" But you know, that'll never happen again. He's gone, and you're going to die in this closet, with your old clothes, action figures you never opened because you'd rather play with the plastic ponies and brush their colorful hair.

The bedroom door handle shakes, and its loud enough for you to hear the struggle, you can also hear the thumps and crashes of a heavy body slamming into the wood, you can even hear the groans of the wood giving under the weight, cracking and splintering, pieces flying from the wood and landed on the carpet of your room right where the moonlight shines. Quietly praying that it doesn't give but you know it is if whoever attacked your brother keeps this up. You want to cry, but no more tears come, you only sit there and listen as the door cracks and is thrown open. Heavy feet stepping in and stumbling with the force they had hit the door with as it slams against the adjacent wall with how hard it was thrown open. The feet stomp around, and you can hear the floor shake under you.With your heart is pounding in your chest and you want to faint, and your throat constricts as the feet stop just outside.

You realize it, as you see the figure advance toward the closet door, if you saw the words written in the crimson of your brother's blood, so did the monster.

And surprisingly, you don't remember much after the door to the closet is thrown open.

**Author's Note:**

> Have I mentioned that I am awful at writing, tho.


End file.
